


Learning the Ropes

by decidueye



Series: Render 'Verse [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: BDSM, Bondage, Edgeplay, M/M, Oral Sex, Other, Subspace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-01
Updated: 2017-09-01
Packaged: 2018-12-22 15:14:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11970051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/decidueye/pseuds/decidueye
Summary: After watching Bokuto and Akaashi play together, Kuroo takes them up on their offer for him to join in. Akaashi has their hands full taming a new sub, and makes sure to keep the other satisfied.





	Learning the Ropes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dicaeopolis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dicaeopolis/gifts).



> good thing i'm incredibly invested in this universe, because one of my favourite people (hi becky) commissioned me to write more of it - only 6k, but guess who got carried away. thanks to mynte for being my beta, in sickness and in health

The first thing Keiji notices is that their apartment is warm. Hot air washes over them as soon as they open the door when they get home from work, probably left over from whatever the boys have had for dinner. The sound of laughter drifts into the hallway from the lounge, and a little of the day’s tension falls from Keiji’s shoulders at the sound. Kuroo had been there for a few hours already, and after a few panicked texts from Koutarou, Keiji had permitted them both to have a single beer each, just to break the ice. Koutarou had promised they wouldn’t have a drop more - he was too excited about tonight to risk throwing it away on alcohol - and one must have done enough to ease the tension, because when Keiji enters the lounge, the scene is no different from any other night that Kuroo and Koutarou decide to spend in Keiji’s apartment. The TV is on but neither of them are watching it, instead wrapped up in some debate about a trivia question that was probably asked at least one round ago.

“Kuroo’s right,” Keiji says without bothering to listen, announcing their arrival and coming around the back of the couch. Koutarou’s legs are sprawled across Kuroo’s lap, and when he sits up, both excited and indignant, he digs his toes into Kuroo’s thighs. Without looking down Kuroo grabs them, and Keiji watches with interest as Kuroo begins to massage the balls of Koutarou’s feet. He doesn’t seem to notice what he’s doing, too busy sticking his tongue out at Koutarou, and Keiji laughs when Koutarou whines, looking at them pleadingly.

“Take your boyfriend's side…!” he says. “You don’t even know the question.”

“Even so,” Keiji says, bending to kiss Koutarou’s cheek so that his pout subsides. “Pointless trivia is Kuroo’s strong suit, not yours. He has a head for facts that no one cares about or benefits from.”

“Say that again when I’ve won a car and a trip to Hawaii,” Kuroo counters. “Now I’m not gonna bring you.”

“How tragic,” is Keiji’s dry response. Koutarou has thrown his arms around them in greeting, forcing them to hold their back at an awkward angle over the back of the couch, and they nose at his cheek quickly before pulling away, making sure he knows there are no hard feelings. Koutarou will be nervous, Keiji knows, and that makes him prone to insecurity and questioning himself. They’ll have to watch out for that tonight. “Meanwhile, you’d probably let Koutarou go in your place. I can’t believe you’re already spoiling him.”

Kuroo blinks, and Keiji nods towards his hands which are still rubbing Koutarou’s feet, unable to keep the amused smile off their face. Looking down, Kuroo drops Koutarou’s feet as though they burned him, and Koutarou wiggles his toes, disappointed.

“Aw, that was nice, though… I’ve been on my feet all day,” Koutarou says, and Kuroo flushes, pushing his fringe out of his face.

“Yeah, well, haven’t we all?” Kuroo says, rushed. Ordinarily, Keiji knows that Kuroo wouldn’t have stopped, and would probably have teased Keiji about some secret plot to steal Koutarou away - a running joke, because they all know that that could never happen, and Kuroo would want Keiji just as much. Keiji isn’t surprised that Kuroo reacted so differently today, though; that was probably the first reference he’d heard to what they’re going to do tonight, no matter how indirect.

Koutarou lifts a leg, continuing to wiggle his toes in Kuroo’s face and breaking the tension with ease, the way he always does. Keiji doesn’t miss the spots behind Koutarou’s ears that colour when he laughs, though, and realises that he’s only playing dumb. Now that Keiji is home, Koutarou is going to be impatient to start, but Keiji wants to make sure that Kuroo is ready first.

They shrug off their suit jacket, walking to its hook and hanging it up before loosening their tie, watching Kuroo out of the corner of their eye. He’s playfighting with Bokuto, but his attention is definitely on Keiji’s fingers as they undo the top buttons of their shirt. Feeling brave, Keiji decides to abandon the tie altogether, undoing a few more buttons until the lining of the camisole they’re wearing under their shirt is revealed. Kuroo will be seeing a lot more later, so they might as well give him a glimpse now.

Kuroo freezes just long enough to catch Koutarou’s elbow with his face, and Keiji chokes back a laugh as they walk back to the couch to sit with them both, half in Koutarou’s lap.

“Behave,” they say, feigning severity, and then flap the loose collar of their shirt, sighing. “God, this place is boiling, did you turn my heating on?”

“We grilled meat,” Koutarou says, his chin resting naturally on Keiji’s shoulder, and Keiji leans into him, putting their feet where Koutarou’s had been on Kuroo’s lap. He squawks, pinching Keiji’s painted toes between his fingers.

“What am I, a footrest?” Kuroo asks, and, well, he’s walked into that one.

“Maybe later.”

Kuroo splutters, thrown off kilter, and Koutarou’s grip on Keiji’s hip tightens ever so slightly as his breath hitches. Keiji knows he’s desperate; that he’s probably been too afraid to mention anything without Keiji there but that he’s aching to start. The anticipation will make it even better for him, though, and they all have the day off work tomorrow. There's no reason for them to rush.

“Right, yeah, that,” Kuroo says, aiming for casual, but he’s choking on his own saliva and avoiding eye contact. Keiji bites back a remark, knowing that teasing him too much could scare him off right now. “Are we gonna…?”

“Soon,” Keiji says. “It’s nice to have a bit of time just...as ourselves, first. And we need to go over the boundaries we discussed.”

“Again? We already did that,” Kuroo says, wrinkling his nose, and Keiji understands. At first, discussing limits can make the whole thing seem a lot less sexy. The truth, though, is quite the opposite.

“Not in person. When actually faced with something, your preferences might be different, so we should check that...and you’ve had a little more time to think, too. It never hurts to go over everything again. Koutarou and I review our limits bi-weekly.”

“Sounds tedious,” Kuroo comments, and Keiji grins as Koutarou flushes, his eyes darkening.

“It’s really not.”

Kuroo opens his mouth, a retort on his tongue, but it fades as he meets Keiji’s eyes, and instead he wets his lips, adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows thickly.

“Is that so…?” His laugh is tight. “What, does talking about puppy play get you hot or something?”

Koutarou’s laughter is loud, ringing sharply in Keiji’s ears as the hairs on the back of their neck rise. When Koutarou slaps Kuroo on the back, Keiji flinches, and they know that Kuroo caught the movement because his eyes narrow as he looks at them, his own cheeks red.

“No way, Tetsu,” Koutarou says, and Kuroo raises an eyebrow at Keiji. “That’s not our kind of thing - we tried it once and it was weird as fuck. It is hot, though - talking about it. Especially for me.”

Kuroo stares at Keiji for a little longer, and though he’s going for mocking, Keiji can’t help but notice a glimmer of interest behind his eyes. They file it away for later; after their failed experiment with Koutarou, they’d decided not to entertain their own glimmer of curiosity. Adding Kuroo to the equation, though, might make things different. He doesn’t take his eyes of Keiji when he speaks to Koutarou.

“Really? Why you specifically?”

“Well…” Koutarou tails off, and Keiji can see him trying to put the words together. He’s always found it so hard to describe the experience of subbing; it had worried Keiji at first, that he couldn’t pin down why he liked it, but now they understand that it’s just beyond definition for him. “That’s where my control is, I guess? Like, knowing I can put a stop to this whenever I want with just a word, and that’s what lets Keiji test my limits and push me… it’s really exciting, and it’s good to be reminded that I have all that power even when I feel powerless. Plus, you know, listening to Keiji talk in their business voice about gags and spanking...that’s fucking awesome.”

Kuroo sighs out, and his chuckle is gasping, like he’s running out of air. “I can imagine,” he says to Koutarou, and then leans forward, clasping his hands on his knees. “Alright, Keiji, talk dirty business to me.”

Keiji rolls their eyes, ignoring Kuroo’s snicker when they pull up the list they’d made on their phone. If his jokes make him more comfortable, he can have them. It’ll be even more satisfying for Keiji later when they bring him to his knees. They pass the list over to Kuroo, satisfied when his laugh stops short on seeing the words.

“Your hard limits are all written there, yes?” Keiji says, “and you’d like to start with bondage and sensory deprivation...we’re going to take it slowly, and you’ll be able to stop at any time. Your safewords are green, yellow, and red - do you remember what they stand for?”

“Like a teacher,” Kuroo comments, still looking at the list. Koutarou leans into his side with a sigh.

“Yeah, it’s hot, right?” he says, and Kuroo shifts, his knees pressing together in lieu of an answer. It’s all Keiji needs, anyway.

“What’s yellow again? It’s not stop, but…”

“Yellow is for when we’re approaching the edge of your limits. If you say that, I won’t stop what I’m doing, but I also won’t push it much further, and I’ll be on the lookout for any additional signs of discomfort.”

“Yellow is the  _ best _ ,” Koutarou sighs again, pressing his forehead against Kuroo’s shoulder. He’s getting restless. The only thing Koutarou loves more than talking about play is actually  _ getting _ to play, and it’s likely he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about it for a while now. Actualising his thoughts is only going to make him more turned on.

“I do like to hear it,” Keiji admits. “Koutarou says that’s when he gets the biggest rush. I don’t think we’ll be hearing yellow from him tonight, though.”

“What about from me?” Kuroo asks. He wets his lips again, staring at Keiji with wide eyes. Keiji shrugs, offering him a small and secretive smile.

“We’ll have to see, won’t we,” they answer him, before gesturing to the bedroom. “Is everything on that list correct? If so…”

Kuroo’s neck whips around so fast that Keiji worries for his safety, and he regards the bedroom as though it’s an examination hall, squaring his jaw before nodding firmly.

“It’s all good, I haven’t changed anything,” Kuroo says, putting the phone on the table. “Let’s fucking do this. Do this...fucking.”

Keiji laughs, and Koutarou does too, practically leaping from the couch towards the bedroom. Keiji walks slower, keeping pace with Kuroo so that he doesn’t get left behind.

“Don’t you have a corset or something?” Kuroo asks, surveying them with a frown. “I was hoping for something kinkier than your work clothes…”

“Costumes are for special occasions; we’re not dropping you in it,” Keiji explains. “I will be getting changed, though, but I think I’ll wait until after we start. This isn’t comfortable enough.”

“I can’t wait to see what is,” Kuroo grins, his cheeks tinged with pink. Keiji takes in the way his shoulders are pushed forcefully back, feigning confidence, and his thumbs which are shoved into his belt loop, stopping his hands from twitching restlessly. They pause at the door to the bedroom, where Koutarou is already getting settled on the bed.

“Remember your safewords, Kuroo, and use them,” Keiji says. “This is for your enjoyment as much as it is for ours - we don’t want to do anything that will make you too uncomfortable.”

Kuroo shifts under Keiji’s serious gaze, eyes drifting towards Koutarou. He swallows and wets his lips.

“A little’s okay, though, right?” he asks, going for jovial, but his voice is too small. Keiji’s known Kuroo far too long to think he never gets nervous. They smile, bumping his shoulder and reaching to pull one of his thumbs out of the belt loop, grasping it tightly. 

“A little’s just perfect,” they tell him, leaning in and ghosting their lips across his cheek. Kuroo inhales, but it’s a breath of excitement, not anxiety, and Keiji pulls away, satisfied.

They keep hold of his hand as they walk into the bedroom, tugging him loosely so that he follows. Everything is already set up, because Keiji and Koutarou had done it that morning, knowing that fussing over the details was only going to make them more anxious and give Kuroo more time to run away. Koutarou was cross-legged in the middle of the bed, gripping his toes and bouncing gently, and there was a chair they’d brought from the living room in the corner. Underneath it they’d tucked their box of toys, ready for easy access - Keiji has a plan in mind, but it doesn’t hurt to be flexible, and it would be inconvenient if they had to pause to get something later.

“That’s for you,” Keiji explains, pointing to the chair. “You can watch for as long as you want, like we discussed, and just signal when you want to enter the scene. I won’t break my role when I start to include you, so make sure you’re completely ready - I don’t want to disrupt anything for Koutarou, either.”

“What kind of signal?” Kuroo asks, his hands in his pockets, regarding the chair with a neutral expression. Perhaps observing from the literal sidelines feels too familiar for him, but Keiji knows that he will appreciate it once they begin. It’s good to have some normality, a routine that you he can ground himself to.

“Green,” they tell him, waiting patiently until he nods in agreement, shuffling over to the chair and sitting down heavily on it, his legs spread wide and his hands resting on his inner thighs.

Keiji watches, and they know that Koutarou is doing the same. They both have Kuroo’s posture memorised, now, and the casual way he would usually unzip his pants and reach for his cock next has been recounted in Keiji’s ear by Koutarou as he jerks them off more times than they can count. Koutarou is no better, sometimes begging Keiji to describe the look they’ve seen in Kuroo’s eyes when he’s watched Koutarou come; how much he wants him.

This isn’t the usual routine, though, and Kuroo’s slacks remain on, at least for now. Keiji offers Kuroo a short nod and the briefest of smiles before they turn their attention to Koutarou. Their gaze on him flicks a switch, and Koutarou’s neck twists towards them as he pushes himself to his knees. He leans forward with wide eyes and pouting lips, and Keiji takes a step closer to the bed, cupping the back of Koutarou’s neck and pulling him in for a deep, possessive kiss.

At first, Kuroo’s attention burns into their skull, distracting them, but then Koutarou whines, mouth parting, and Keiji drags their teeth over his bottom lip, and everything is as it should be, and Koutarou is the only thing that matters. His chest rises as he breathes deeply, and Keiji digs their nails into the back of his neck, a taste of what’s to come. Koutarou always says that they’re a natural at this, that they have the ‘domme’s instinct’, and Keiji doesn’t know what that’s supposed to mean, but right now their stomach is churning with the desire to own Koutarou, to show Kuroo how easily he submits, and they think he might be right.

When Keiji pulls back, Koutarou’s eyes are lidded and dark, and he's squeezing his own thighs to keep himself composed. It’s not space, not yet, but they both know this game so well that one gesture is enough to push them into their roles, and their place in this dynamic is practically home for them now. Keiji smiles, reaching a hand out to caress Koutarou’s cheek. They grip his jaw, squeezing, and Koutarou keens, putting sound to how they’re both feeling.

“Are you ready to put on a show, boy?” they ask him, keeping their voice low and firm. Koutarou wets his lips repeatedly, already thirsting for more as he nods.

Keiji takes a step back, content to be in Kuroo’s peripheral vision and allow Koutarou the spotlight for now. They want to secure Koutarou under their thumb quickly, and to give Kuroo the chance to see how much Koutarou enjoys the process of submission. He’s only ever seen Koutarou in subspace before, and as beautiful as he looks like that, Keiji knows it's an overwhelming sight, especially when you have to imagine yourself in that position. Besides, later Kuroo will struggle to focus on anyone but Keiji, even if he’s being made to fuck Koutarou, and they want a chance to show off their favourite toy, too.

Koutarou is trembling now as he waits for their instructions, and Keiji has some mercy. 

“Take off your clothes, Kou-kun,” they tell him, and Koutarou bites his lip, tugging at the hem of his shirt.

“So soon?” he asks, but there’s no real resistance there. It takes Keiji less than a second to realise he’s playing coy for their audience, and Keiji barks out a laugh that makes Koutarou’s eyes sparkle. He’s always been a performer, and now he has a chance to shine on the stage he loves most.

“Yes, Kou-kun. Don’t question me. I want to see your condition.”

Treating Koutarou like a sex toy had started as a joke - the way most of their adventures in the scene have begun. Keiji mocked the age-old cliché of objectification, and then they had found Koutarou’s head pressed into their breast, mouthing wetly as he dragged his cunt over the fabric of their jeans. He’s weak for anything that should sound ridiculous or overdone - when Keiji says it, Koutarou says it’s like he’s living in all of his favourite porn films.

Keiji has never found tired pornos to be that appealing, but as Koutarou hurries to undress himself, stumbling when he tries to pull off his pants, socks and underwear in one movement, they can’t help but shift, their cock leaking slightly in interest. Koutarou’s reactions are enough to make any embarrassment they might have felt into less than a whisper; they will say anything if it gets him to come.

“Neatly,” Keiji cautions when Koutarou makes to toss his clothes over the bed. With reluctance, Koutarou begins to fold them, and Keiji ignores Kuroo’s snort of laughter as Koutarou places them to the side of the bed in a roughly organised pile. “Stand up. I’m going to examine my toy.”

With a little clumsiness - exaggerated, Keiji is sure, and they wonder if he’s seeking punishment - Koutarou gets to his feet, standing with his toes curling over the edge of the mattress. He stares straight ahead, cheeks pink, and even though Keiji is much shorter than him in this position he still looks demure, his shoulders hunched in on himself. His legs are a little wider than his hips, which are turned towards Kuroo’s chair, though, and Keiji knows that he’s loving the attention.

Keiji walks around the foot of the bed, reaching out to slap and pinch Koutarou’s thighs lightly, making a show of examining him as one would a horse, or a new car. Koutarou jolts at each touch, biting down hard on his lip as he fights to keep still, and Keiji doesn’t hide their satisfaction.

“Sensitive,” they note, and Koutarou pouts. “Unused… for now. Have you been taking care of yourself for me?”

Koutarou nods, a soft whine of consent escaping his throat as he keeps his head down, watching Keiji out of the corner of his eyes. It never hurts to motivate Koutarou to look after himself during their sessions, and Koutarou has begun to cherish their little moments of compassion. There’s an adorable flush spreading across his chest, and Keiji affords themself a quick glance over to Kuroo to see that he’s staring, mouth open, at the deep rose across Koutarou’s nipples. It never happens during regular sex - there are a lot of reactions that are exclusive to play - and Keiji is thrilled to watch Kuroo discover the same turn ons that they can now read like a map. Kuroo catches them looking, and the second their eyes meet he goes rigid, fingers flexing around the seat of the chair.

“Sit down against the headboard,” Keiji commands, and Koutarou goes immediately. His movements are heavy and fluid, caught in the tide of Keiji’s dominance, and he’s so reluctant to take his eyes off Keiji’s form that he stumbles when the mattress dips, falling against the headboard with a thud. He settles in position without reacting, wetting his lips and spreading his legs without needing to be told. His eyes are dark, and Keiji smiles. It’s such an ego boost to be able to hold Koutarou’s attention without even being dressed for the occasion; their work clothes are the least flattering items they own.

Keiji moves towards the chair and Kuroo shifts backwards, startled by their approach. To ease his mind they gesture towards the box beneath  it, clarifying their intention. Kuroo pushes it towards them with his feet, and Keiji takes a moment to watch the muscles of his thigh contract, his hand still resting dangerously close to his crotch. He’s hard already, but they had seen the skittish way that he moved, and Keiji keeps their eyes focused on the box as they retrieve the rope they needed, careful not to frighten him.

“Green.” Kuroo’s voice breaks their careful planning, and they look up at him, startled. He accepts their assessment with a set jaw and unblinking eyes. They hadn’t expected him to signal so soon, especially once they’d started. Kuroo had seemed so stiff and uncertain, but perhaps they had misread his excitement.

The thought sits uncomfortably in their throat as Kuroo stares them down, and they nod, standing with the rope in their hands.

“Get up, then,” they say, hiding their surprise with a veil of disinterest, and walking back towards Koutarou on the bed. Kuroo follows behind on the balls of his feet, a little too close for comfort, and Keiji figures it out; whether or not Kuroo was ready to play is still questionable, but he had reached his limit as an observer. He needed to be included.

The length of the bed is around three of Keiji’s steps, and once they’ve taken those they will be at Koutarou’s side, with Kuroo close behind them; they need to utilize this time to form a new plan. In the first step, they consider Kuroo’s enthusiasm, perhaps lit too fast, and his inexperience. In the second step, they think of Koutarou’s insecurity, and their own desire to reassure him that playing with others doesn’t make him any less good for them, or any less desirable. In the third step, they allow themself to think of their own desires, Koutarou’s soft whine and Kuroo’s breath on the back of their neck, and they know what they want to do.

Keiji reaches out, fingers gently gripping Koutarou’s chin and tilting his head towards Kuroo. His mouth is open, tongue loose and pliant, and he has a little difficulty pulling his eyes away from Keiji, but Kuroo’s movement catches his attention in the end, and Koutarou regards him with a curious excitement.

“I want you to meet someone, Kou-kun. This is my new pet,” they tell him. Even as Koutarou nods, his eyes flashing a mixture of intrigue and security, Kuroo laughs. Keiji turns, intending to silence him with a glare, but it’s not their look that stops the joke from forming on Kuroo’s tongue. Following his gaze, Keiji sees Koutarou staring at him, eyes wide and mouth turned into a steep frown.

“We don’t laugh at Keiji-san,” Koutarou says, and Kuroo fumbles for a response, his mouth audibly dry. “You have to be good for them. They deserve the best.”

Keiji feels a rush of pride, blood pumping through their chest and rushing to their groin. It’s hard not to take him then and there, to show Kuroo just how much good behaviour can be rewarded, but they know that that’s not the plan for tonight. They save the feeling for later, but a smile still escapes onto their lips, and they reach out to touch Koutarou’s own, thumb brushing over his frown.

“That’s right, my boy,” they tell him, and his eyes close, chirping with pleasure at the praise. “If he doesn’t take this seriously we’ll have to cast him aside. He needs to know his place.”

“Will you teach him?” Koutarou asks. Keiji hears Kuroo’s breath hitch; watches his adam’s apple bob as he clears his throat. Their lips curl, allowing their teeth to show.

“If he asks nicely,” they reply, still watching Kuroo. Kuroo shifts closer, his posture low and open and his gaze averted.

“Teach me,” he says, surely but with difficulty. “Wait, no - please teach me, Akaashi...san.”

Satisfaction is like a drug for Keiji, and they shiver from the thrill of it; Kuroo has submitted more quickly than they ever imagined he would. There’s still some steel in his eyes, though, and his jaw works stiffly as he waits for Keiji’s response, so they know it’s not over yet. How could it be? Even Koutarou had put up a fight, and he’d been desperate to get under Keiji’s heel.

“I’ll teach you,” Keiji tells him, and Kuroo sighs as soon as they speak, relieved. Perhaps he had been worried that they would make him do more, but there’s a limit to their teasing, and they intend to save a little for later. “Get naked, then. You need an examination too.”

“I’m not a racehorse -” Kuroo starts, and then his jaw clamps shut and he swallows thickly. This is what he wants, after all.

“You could be, if I wanted you to be,” Keiji says, tongue between their teeth. They’re pushing their luck and they know it, but Kuroo makes it hard for them to resist. His scowl is just as rewarding as his silence, and a quick glance at Koutarou shows that he’s watching, fascinated. They lean forward, giving Koutarou a tender, probing kiss, the whine that Kuroo emits making their eardrums tremor even though it’s barely audible.

“Toys who pass inspection get rewarded,” Keiji says simply. “If you don’t comply…”

“I’m doing it, I’m doing it…” Kuroo mutters, and the speed at which he undresses betrays his enthusiasm. He’s half hard already, just as Keiji had guessed he would be. As Keiji allows themself a moment of self-congratulation, Kuroo gets himself tangled trying to remove his pants and underwear all at once, almost tripping. Keiji doesn’t comment, only watching with raised eyebrows and their teeth scraping over their bottom lip, and Kuroo glares, the spots beneath his ears reddening.

He suits being flustered. All at once, Keiji is sad that it doesn’t happen more often and aroused that they have access to a side of Kuroo so few people will be able to see.

Kuroo bundles his clothes into a ball, tossing them onto the chair that he’d been sat on. It’s a pet peeve of Keiji’s, but they decide to let it slide - at least they’re out of the way. Kuroo doesn’t seem to know how to hold himself, standing at the edge of the bed with his legs apart. His hands are itching to cover his cock, Keiji can tell, but he must know that he would be mocked for it, because he’s gripping his own thighs instead, fingers pressing hard into the flesh of them.

Keiji nods their approval, getting up off the bed and gently pushing Kuroo back a few steps so that they can circle him, beginning the examination. They’ve never had the chance to take Kuroo in so thoroughly before, and they make the most of it, not bothering to hide their attraction or intentions. Keiji reaches out, spanning their palm across his shoulders - narrower than Koutarou’s but still strongly defined by muscles - and then run a finger down the length of his spine, sighing when he shivers.

“Ticklish; sensitive,” they note, turning him to face them and watching the colour spread across Kuroo’s chest. “Good.”

They step up to Kuroo, the tip of their nose just a few centimeters below his as they grab his hips and squeeze, thumbs digging into the pressure points.

“Hah -” Kuroo lets out a sharp breath of laughter, snapping his mouth shut when he realises that he’s revealed the extent of his sensitivity, and Keiji grins before moving their hands around to cup his ass. The cheeks are boney where Keiji’s is soft and Koutarou’s muscular, but it’s no less thrilling to have it in their palm.

“Nice,” Keiji responds, pinching the skin. Kuroo stifles his responding squeak.

Their contact with Kuroo’s cock is too brief for both of them, as they stroke the length of it with a gentle, clinical touch, studying Kuroo’s face as he averts his gaze. Keiji brings their hands up to his jaw, gripping it firmly.

“Show me your tongue,” they say, pressing down on his chin with their thumb.

Kuroo opens his mouth slowly, jaw following the guiding pressure of Keiji’s thumb. After a few seconds he sticks out his tongue, opening his mouth wider so that he can stretch it out over his lip. Keiji presses two fingers on it, watching Kuroo’s tonsils contract as he holds back an instinctive cough. His gag reflex is good, though, and he doesn’t choke even when Keiji tugs lightly on his tongue; only his eyes begin to water.

“A good tongue….we can make use of that,” Keiji remarks, speaking partially to Kuroo and partially to themself. They release him. “Well done.”

With Koutarou, the effect of any praise Keiji gives, no matter how small, is instantaneously visible; things are different with Kuroo. Keiji scrutinises him for a reaction, and his intake of breath is barely noticeable, as is the slight ease of tension in his shoulders. It’s fortunate that Keiji is so observant, or they might have missed it, and it’s a crucial sign that pushes them both to keep going. Keiji smiles softly, and Kuroo bites his lip when he realises that they caught him.

The rope they had been holding when Kuroo had signalled is lying on the bed, now. They pick it up, placing it in Kuroo’s hands. Teaching can be one of the easiest ways to bring someone into submission, and this will give him the illusion of control.

“You’re going to tie Kou-kun up for me - just the way we both like it,” Keiji explains when Kuroo looks at the rope in puzzlement. “I’ll tell you what to do, so make sure you get it right.”

Kuroo’s mouth works silently for a moment, and Keiji takes the time to check on Koutarou in the guise of moving out of Kuroo’s way. Koutarou’s eyes have gone wide, and he looks from Kuroo’s naked body to Keiji’s face in astonishment.

“He’s gonna…?” Koutarou asks. It was one of the possible scenarios they’d discussed together before Kuroo came over, so Keiji can’t tell whether he’s performing his surprise, or if he’s already deep enough to have forgotten. His excitement is much easier to read: it’s in the rapid swell of his chest, and the shudder that ripples through his body.

“He’s going to do it for me, yes,” Keiji confirms. “You’ll set a good example for me and keep still, won’t you?”

“Of course!” Koutarou rushes breathlessly to agree. By this time, Kuroo seems to have processed Keiji’s order, and he steps forward, the rope held tightly in both fists and his shoulders squared. The control Keiji appeared to give him has renewed his confidence, just as they predicted, and they place their hand at the small of his back, urging him towards the side of the bed.

“Sit up in the middle of the bed, Kou-kun,” Keiji instructs. Kuroo perches beside him, running the rope through his fingers, and Keiji places their hands over his, guiding him through the basic knotting techniques. “Good. We’ll start with the arms…”

Keiji has the instructions for various positions memorised from their own repetitive study, and he talks Kuroo through the top half of the box tie using the same monologue that used to run through their head when they still had to focus absolutely on what they were doing. Speaking it aloud is no different from thinking it, and their stumble-free monotone seems to work for Kuroo, because he has to pause before they can move on to tying the legs - a frog tie - to adjust his own position. For a moment, Keiji thinks that Kuroo is about to reach for his cock, seeking relief, and they prepare to chastise him, but Kuroo is perceptive as always and stops before they can open their mouth, shifting his posture with a sigh and resuming his work.

When he is finished, Koutarou is on full display in the centre of the bed, his arms  folded in the centre of his back and tied together to stay there. His legs are wide apart, calves and thighs fastened together and making it harder for him to close them. The knots are large and clumsy, but they hold, and Keiji is impressed all the same; they had practised for hours on their own before they had been willing to practice around Koutarou. Kuroo is proud of his work, it’s obvious, though his quest for praise is stopped short as both he and Keiji take in the sight of Koutarou before them.

He’s panting, making no effort to strain against the ropes, though his biceps bulge regardless. Koutarou stares straight through Kuroo to lock eyes with Keiji, eyes dark and tongue moist when he wets his lips. Being controlled through a third party must be deliciously frustrating for him - especially when Keiji hasn’t even allowed Kuroo to touch him yet. There’s a silent plea behind his eyes, and beneath the blonde curls of his pubes Keiji can see that his cunt is just as wet as their cock is.

It’s too much. Of course they have to make him wait a little longer.

“Excellent,” Keiji says, leaning forward to pull at the ropes around Koutarou’s thighs and nodding in approval when they don’t shift. They’re pressing into Koutarou’s skin, but not too tightly, and Keiji can see that the only chafing Koutarou will suffer will be the good kind. “You take direction well.”

A flash of irritation breaks through Kuroo’s pride at the reminder that he is still under Keiji’s control, and Keiji nods, satisfied. They want him to be comfortable, but not so much that he forgets his place.

“As a reward, you can kiss my cock. Then we'll move on to Koutarou’s test.”

“My…?” Koutarou begins, but Keiji is able to silence him with a look, a soft thrill running through them as they do. Kuroo looks petulant, regarding Keiji with his arms folded, and Keiji smiles benignly as they undo their work pants, opening them at the zipper just enough to reveal their lingerie. The silk is stained damp with their wetness, and Kuroo wets his lips, unable to stop himself from staring. 

“Well?” Keiji asks, expectant. 

“I can hardly kiss it like that, Keiji-san,” Kuroo says, tongue in cheek. He's staring, leaning forward on his toes as he tries to see more, and Keiji laughs. 

“Oh, you haven't earned the sight of it, yet, toy… you'll kiss it through the fabric. Don't be greedy.”

“Can’t I-?” Kuroo starts to ask, but Keiji is done being gentle, and they step forward, gripping his jaw tightly with one hand and pushing hard on his shoulder with the other. Kuroo’s knees start to buckle, and they stare him down as they apply more pressure. 

“You'll do as I say,  _ brat _ ,” Keiji annunciates, and the soft sigh as Kuroo falls to his knees is enough to send precome dripping past the lining of their panties and down their thigh. Kuroo doesn't even watch it, eyes glued to Keiji’s fierce gaze. “This is your reward; be grateful.”

Kuroo sways on his knees for a moment, lips ever so slightly parted in a slow exhale, and then he nods reluctantly. Keiji holds their pants in place around their thighs as Kuroo leans forward, kissing their cock through the fabric of their panties with reverence, and more tongue than they would usually allow. They let it slide, though, because he's warm against them, and he feels so fucking good. Koutarou’s awestruck stare is no help either, and Keiji doesn't bother to repress their shudder, staring at the ceiling to regain their composure. 

If they look for too long, they can almost see static. 

Kuroo lingers, and Keiji takes a deliberate step backwards, feeling Kuroo’s hot breath on their underwear as he sighs, petulant.

“Get up,” Keiji says, and their voice is breathy but even. “You have to dress me now.”

“I thought this was Kou - Kou-kun’s - test?” Kuroo asks, getting clumsily to his feet. Keiji smiles.

“Oh, it is,” they tell him, and Koutarou’s ears prick up, rocking where he’s tied on the bed. “Kou-kun is going to tell you how to do it.”

Koutarou’s breath hitches at the same time as Kuroo makes a noise of puzzlement, looking between them. “Dressing someone isn’t hard…” he begins, and Keiji ignores him, going to open the wardrobe.

“It has to be right,” Koutarou explains, rushed. “Oh, Keiji-san, can I - do I get to pick?”

“That’s a part of the test,” Keiji tells him. They’d kept this part as a surprise for Koutarou, knowing that he has to be in the space, with Keiji and Kuroo in front of him, to realise how much he will enjoy showing off his knowledge of Keiji’s preferences. It gives Kuroo a chance to explore their body too - something he’s never really done before, because their forays into exhibitionism have always focused on Koutarou. They’ve never minded, but they can’t pretend that they planned this out of completely selfless considerations, either. Kuroo’s fingers are entrancing, as clever and brazen as the rest of him; Keiji wants to feel them on their chest.

Koutarou is delighted, moving awkwardly in his bonds so he can get a better view of the wardrobe, and Kuroo is still looking between them. He’s finally lost his read on the situation, and Keiji can see the cogs working in his mind, trying to figure out if this is something special between Keiji and Koutarou, or if it’s more simple than that. Keiji doesn’t bother to point out that it can be both - there’s time enough for Kuroo to discover that on his own.

“Okay, so…” Kuroo says slowly, “I...dress you? In the things Kou-kun picks out?”

Keiji nods. “Follow his instructions carefully and this will be fun for both of us,” they say and Kuroo shivers, rolling his shoulders. 

“You have to undress them first, too,” Koutarou points out, a slow pout on his lips. He’s not happy about rescinding that responsibility to Kuroo. Kuroo’s eyes widen for a split second - maybe it hadn’t crossed his mind - and he steps up to Keiji, nodding.

“Right,” he says, “is there a special way to do that, too?”

“Like they’re a treasure,” Koutarou says simply, and Keiji has to bite down hard on their cheek to stifle the emotion that threatens to bubble into a smile. “They are a treasure. Be delicate, and savour it, like...bitter chocolate.”

Kuroo doesn’t reply to Koutarou with anything but a nod, but it’s clear the words affect him, because he’s flushing again, and when he lifts his hands to unbutton Keiji’s shirt, his fingers are trembling slightly. Keiji watches him, their mouth parted, and Kuroo looks anywhere but their eyes, pausing when the black gore of their bra is revealed and resting his middle and index fingers against it for a short moment. Before Keiji can comment, he’s moving again, though, making quick work of the remaining buttons and sliding their blouse of their shoulders. He stares at the curve of their clavicle for a long time, and Keiji wonders if that’s a weakness of his, taking note when his tongue darts out to wet his lips.

Their slacks are already unfastened, and so all Kuroo has to do is slide them down, resting on his knees as he waits for Keiji to step out of them, his eyes glued to their groin. Koutarou talks Kuroo through folding them carefully, and Kuroo emits a soft laugh.

“Just like Keiji-san,” Kuroo says. Keiji has to smile; he isn’t wrong.

Koutarou directs Kuroo towards a sheer chiffon blouse and a short - their shortest - skirt in their wardrobe, and Kuroo thumbs his way through their kink selection carefully, taking it all in. It isn’t the selection they had in mind, but it works just fine, and Keiji nods their approval, a gesture Koutarou catches with an energetic buzz. When Kuroo returns to the bed, he lays both items carefully on the duvet as if they’re artifacts, then picks up the blouse again and turns to Keiji.

He’s fully erect now, the smallest amount of precome seeping from the head. He must be aching to be touched - Keiji knows how hard it is to think of anything other than their own hardness, and the people ripe for the taking in front of them. Kuroo’s arousal blurs his judgement. He pulls the sleeves of their blouse over their arms, careful not to let the fabric snag, and then instead of fastening the buttons - only the middle two, as Koutarou instructs - he molds his palm around the cup of their bra, sighing softly when his thumb meets flesh. Keiji catches his wrist abruptly, meeting his gaze with a raised eyebrow.

“What are you doing?” Keiji says, and Kuroo blinks, as though he was barely aware himself. His disorientation makes Keiji shiver, and they struggle to mask it, keeping their eyes fixed on his. He bites his lip, hard, the skin pinking around his teeth.

“I...wanted to…” he begins, obviously trying to frame it in a way that Keiji would accept. They shake their head.

“That won’t do,” Keiji says. “You want what I want, remember? It’s not your turn to be greedy.”

There’s a long moment of silence before Kuroo nods, and Keiji sees his adam’s apple bobbing and his jaw working. It’s impossible to tell exactly what’s going through his mind right now, but Keiji hope’s it’s frustration. There’s an energy in Kuroo’s annoyance that they yearn to utilise. It would make him simultaneously more challenging and eager to please.

Kuroo fastens the buttons and lowers his hands, and Koutarou rocks himself on the duvet, peering at them both.

“That’s perfect. They’re beautiful....like always,” he says, and Keiji smiles, feeling their cheeks heat. There’s nothing more tender than Koutarou’s sincerity when he’s subbing. “The skirt, now. It’s tight, but be careful not to grope them unless they let you.”

“Will they?” Kuroo asks, teasing and hopeful. Keiji doesn’t give him a response. Sighing, Kuroo reaches for the skirt and drops to his knees at a speed that Keiji can only assume is a provocation. When they step into the skirt, Kuroo grins up at them, and they reach for his hair before they can think it through, tugging hard until they hear Kuroo gasp, his eyes and mouth wide open.

“It’s too soon to be playing those games,” Keiji warns, and Kuroo can’t do anything but moan, a sound that makes Koutarou do the same, rocking his hips against the mattress.

“Keiji-san, I need…” Koutarou pleads. Keiji watches Kuroo close his eyes, inhaling deeply.

“If your playmate would do what you’re telling him to, then you could…” Keiji muses softly. “It’s his fault you’re suffering.”

“ _ Tets’,” _ Koutarou whines, his voice so full of want that Keiji has to bring a fist to their mouth, biting down hard on one of their fingers. Kuroo shivers and springs into action, pulling the skirt over Keiji’s ass and pulling up the zip, finishing off with a tender kiss to the seam.

“Like a treasure, right?” Kuroo says, and Keiji allows it, because he’s following the rules, and they’re itching to move on, every vein in their body alive with anticipation.

“Right,” Keiji says, bending to pull Kuroo up by his shoulders. He’s heavy, but Keiji is stronger than they look and Kuroo goes easily anyway, falling onto the mattress when Keiji pushes him.

“Get comfortable,” Keiji says, turning him so that his legs are facing Koutarou and then spreading his legs apart. Unable to resist, they reach for Kuroo’s cock, giving it a few languid strokes, and Kuroo lets out a guttural moan in response, made sensitive by his anticipation. Koutarou watches greedily, fidgeting within his restraints, and when Keiji speaks again, he sighs with delight. “Kou-kun’s going to suck you off.”

“Oh, thank you, Keiji-san, thank you so much, oh my god…” Koutarou babbles, his lips wet and shining. Kuroo cranes his head to look at Koutarou, eyes hazy.

“Ah...fuck, really?”

“He loves to suck cock,” Keiji tells Kuroo, making Koutarou shiver at the crude honesty of their words. “It’s his reward for playing so well, and yours for making a good impression.”

Kuroo’s head falls back onto the mattress, and he laughs hoarsely up at the ceiling as Keiji begins to maneuver Koutarou. It takes a little effort to get Koutarou into position, and it’s going to be a balancing act for him if he doesn’t want to choke on Kuroo’s cock, knelt between Kuroo’s legs with his own hands bound behind him. Keiji loves to see Koutarou’s thighs work, and Koutarou loves to show off his athleticism; it’s a perfect match.

“Warm him up, Kou-kun.” Keiji pulls a condom from the nightstand as Koutarou buries his head between Kuroo’s thighs, nipping at the skin close to his balls. Kuroo lets out something between a squeal and a moan, and Keiji can’t help but be endeared. It makes them wonder if they can get him to laugh himself into an orgasm. 

When they return, Koutarou is busy sucking a bruise into Kuroo’s thigh, and Kuroo is still staring at the ceiling, face flushed and eyes dark but unfocused, like he can barely believe what’s happening. Keiji applies the condom quickly, then kneels on the bed themself, just behind Kuroo’s head. From here, they can see both his and Koutarou’s faces, and they have the perfect angle for watching Kuroo come.

Kuroo’s eyes have found their body, and he’s staring as if entranced. Keiji can feel themself burn with the emotion behind his stare - it’s less sexual and more tender than they anticipated, and it reaches through them, touching them in a way that makes their gut churn. They put their palms over his eyes, and Kuroo goes slack-jawed.

“Keiji-san…?”

“Trust me,” Keiji says. Kuroo immediately relaxes, and Keiji shivers, knowing they’ve won. Trust is both the most essential and the most thrilling part of being a domme; Kuroo is theirs now, and he knows they will treat him well because of it. “I’ll talk you through it.”

“I think I know how a blow-job works, Keiji-san,” Kuroo quips, but his sharp wit has been replaced by something softer, and he repeats their name even though he doesn’t need to. It sounds smooth on his tongue. “Keiji-san.”

“All the same,” Keiji says, amused, and Koutarou smiles too, silly and warm. All of his muscles are straining to hold himself in place, and it’s a gorgeous sight. Keiji wishes that they could touch him, but then they’d have to part from Kuroo. “Kou-kun. Start gently, from the base.”

Anyone who plays volleyball with Koutarou would be unable to believe his capacity for obedience when it comes to sucking cock, but he’s always taken Keiji’s direction better than anyone else’s, and he tongues at the base of Kuroo’s cock with enthusiasm. It’s a shame to have its full appearance hidden behind the condom, but Kuroo hasn’t been tested in a while, and it’s their first time being together, so they can’t take any risks. Even so, Koutarou’s tongue looks beautiful as he makes his way slowly towards the head at Keiji’s urging, and Kuroo’s responsive moans are even better. Keiji feels their own cock twitch, dripping, and fights the urge to grind, animalistic, against Kuroo’s head.

“What a beautiful cock,” Keiji says, bowed over Kuroo, the better to watch him pant. Koutarou hums an enthusiastic agreement and Kuroo squirms, held in place by Keiji’s palms against his eyes. “Kou-kun is certainly enjoying it. I bet I could get him to beg for it, if it wasn’t already his reward…”

“What...what does he look like…?” Kuroo asks between gasps, and Keiji smiles down at him, even though he can’t see.

“You want to know? Ask nicely.”

“Please, Keiji-san.”

“He looks hungry,” Keiji begins, and Kuroo sighs when Koutarou moans, highlighting their words. They know he’s listening, and he’ll follow all of their direction, eager to show himself as a pleaser. “When he takes your head into his mouth his eyes roll back like he’s been starving for weeks. He’s my slut for you, Kuroo-kun, and he’s loving every minute of it. You should see how his face is shining with sweat, how his lips are red and burning for you…”

“I want to see…” Kuroo groans, throat tight and struggling to keep his hips still. Keiji laughs.

“Come for me and I’ll let you,” they tell him, and Koutarou takes his cue immediately, taking a deep breath before taking as much of Kuroo’s cock as he can manage, muscles straining as he moves his head up and down. Kuroo’s gasps escalate to cries, and his whole body shudders when he orgasms into the condom, Keiji’s palms dampening as Kuroo’s eyes begin to water. Finally, Keiji lets him see, moving their hands and resting his head in their lap, stroking their fingers through his hair as he strains to look at Koutarou, who is licking around the head of Kuroo’s cock as though he might be able to taste him through the condom with low whines.

“Oh my  _ god _ ...shit, that’s hot…” Kuroo says breathlessly, and Koutarou relaxes his muscles, allowing himself to fall against Kuroo’s thigh with a slow, wobbling smile.

“I did good…?” Koutarou asks, looking to Keiji for an answer. They nod.

“You did. It’s your turn now, baby. Are you ready?”

Koutarou’s reaction isn’t so much of a shiver as a full body ripple. Despite how his muscles must be burning, and the tight binding of his arms, he is loose and relaxed, and Keiji knows that Koutarou would be ready for just about anything right now. It’s ridiculous, but Keiji is desperate to see Koutarou’s face when Kuroo makes him come - to see if it’s different from when Keiji makes him do it; to see if having their full attention is even better for Koutarou’s ego.

“Mmm…” Koutarou says, watching Kuroo - still breathless in Keiji’s lap - with lidded eyes. “Will you help me up, Keiji-san? Please, I can’t do it without you.”

It’s music to Keiji’s ears. They melt, caressing Kuroo’s hair with a long sigh, and Kuroo sighs too, picking up on their pleasure. Keiji shuffles back on their knees, lowering Kuroo’s head gently to the mattress and coming to Koutarou’s side. He rolls into them, leaning heavily on their side, and the combination of his bonds and the looseness of his muscles means Keiji has to work to right him, leaning him back against the headboard and pulling his legs apart. Koutarou sighs happily at each movement, doing his best to press closer to Keiji at every opportunity, and Keiji has to force him back several times, laughing soft and fond when he whines at them.

“It’ll be worth it, Kou-kun,” they tell him gently, and he sighs dramatically. Behind them, Kuroo begins to right himself. “We’ll cuddle soon. First you have to come.”

“Can I…?” Koutarou asks, turning his face into Keiji’s bicep and wriggling. If they gave him permission, he could probably come then and there; he’s shuddering and dripping.

“Not yet,” they tell him, and he whines pitifully, hopes shattered. “I want Kuroo-kun to know how good you taste.”

Koutarou squirms, and Kuroo begins to crawl forward, hearing his name. 

“You want me to suck Kou-kun off?” he says, breathless, eyeing Koutarou’s cunt with nothing short of hunger.

“I’m  _ letting _ you,” Keiji emphasises, and Kuroo nods, already bent over Koutarou’s knees. He kisses them wetly, and Keiji fists a hand in his hair, tugging at him. “Don’t get cocky.”

Kuroo moans his assent, following Keiji’s movements with ease when they guide him by their fist to Koutarou’s cunt. Kuroo’s mouth hangs open, tongue extended, and Keiji presses his face hard against Koutarou, who squeezes his thighs together with a sharp, gasping moan.

“Oh, oh, that’s too much…!” he says, but Keiji doesn’t let Kuroo pull back, instead urging him to press deeper into Koutarou’s entrance with his tongue, nudging Kuroo’s nose against his clit. “Hnn, please, oh…”

Koutarou writhes in his bonds and Kuroo moans, exploring Koutarou messily and taking gasping gulps of air whenever Keiji lets him breathe. Even though they’re not participating, Keiji feels prickling heat against their skin, their cock straining in their underwear, and the intimacy the three of them are sharing makes them shiver. Neither Kuroo nor Koutarou can talk, so Keiji fills the air with quiet and filthy encouragement.

“That’s it...knew we could put that tongue to good use, and Kou-kun is such a slut for it, don’t you know? He’s desperate, and you have to drink up every last drop of him, because we can’t let any of it go to waste…”

Koutarou’s pitch rises, his hips tensing as he nears his orgasm, and Keiji jerks Kuroo’s head harshly back, holding him up and away from Koutarou by his hair.

“No-!” Koutarou chokes out, tears of frustration running down his cheeks. Kuroo is just as bad, his tongue still hanging out of his mouth and drooling, spit and slick covering his chin. “No, no, Keiji-san, please…”

“You want to come?” Keiji asks, and Koutarou nods, rocking in place and begging quietly. “Kuroo-kun has to beg to make you.”

“I…” Kuroo manages, disoriented and wanting. He wets his lips, tugging against Keiji’s grip, but they hold firm. “I want to finish it, let me - let me finish him, it’s so…”

“Beg,” Keiji says sharply, and Kuroo just nods, transitioning immediately.

“Please, Keiji-san, let me taste him when he comes, let me make him come for you…I want to please you…”

Keiji releases him, and Kuroo is ravenous between Koutarou’s thighs, licking at him without mercy. Koutarou shrieks, and his face is a picture of bliss when he comes, looking at Keiji with wet eyes full of gratitude. He shudders, coming again when Kuroo doesn’t stop, and begins to quiver in his bonds, crying softly.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Keiji says, pulling Kuroo back more gently this time. He’s breathless and panting, gaze fixed on where Koutarou is shaking with aftershocks.

“God, oh my god, oh,  _ fuck _ …” Kuroo murmurs, and Keiji has to agree. They help Kuroo sit up, stroking his hair a few times before moving towards Koutarou, pulling him tightly into their lap before they move to untie the ropes.

“Good boy,” Keiji says, and Koutarou shivers again. It’s cliché, but they know it’s his favourite thing to hear. He loves the praise that comes with and before aftercare. “You’ve done so well. It’s time to rest, now.”

“Oh, Keiji-san…” Koutarou sighs, and Keiji wonders if he’s able to say anything but their name right now. They wonder if he’s able to say Kuroo’s name. “Keiji-san, Keiji-san…”

They wrap their arms around him as soon as they finish untying him, reaching out to massage the marks on his wrists. Kuroo is still at the foot of the bed, watching them, and the haze of his arousal is beginning to fade. For a moment, Keiji thinks he looks lost, and they open one of their arms.

“Come here,” they say, and Kuroo stumbles over, landing with his head against their breast when they pull him in. He looks down at their groin, their erection still prominent behind their lingerie.

“It’s over?” Kuroo asks, sounding as though he’s far away. “But you’re, don’t you…?”

“It’s fine,” Keiji says, and it truly is. They’re achingly hard, and it’s uncomfortable, but it’s not just about the sex for them - Keiji has gotten everything they needed from this session. Both Kuroo and Koutarou are spent and in their arms. “We’ll save that for next time, if you want it.”

Kuroo hums, and the prospect of another session hangs in the air, none of them feeling the need to address it just yet. Holding tightly onto both of them, Keiji leans back, beginning to move the duvet around them. Taking his cue, Koutarou snuggles down into the bed, and Kuroo peers curiously at him.

“What’s happening…?” he asks. He already sounds heavy and worn, the labour of play sinking into his bones, and Keiji eases him down gently, lying between Kuroo and Koutarou.

“Nap time,” they explain, and Kuroo hums. “Then aftercare.”

“After…?”

“My favourite part…” Koutarou says wistfully, eyes already closed, “love Keiji-san, love aftercare...love caring with Kuroo-kun…”

Keiji smiles, impossibly fond, and turns to kiss Koutarou before he sleeps. Their kiss demands nothing but lasts forever, warm and chapped lips pressed together as Koutarou sighs through his nose. Without thinking, Keiji turns to Kuroo, who is watching them with lidded eyes, and repeats the motion. He responds automatically, but Keiji can tell that he was expecting something more sexual and biting, because it takes a few seconds for him to relax into it. When Keiji pulls away, Kuroo’s eyes are wet, and his expression is unreadable.

Perhaps that had been a little much. Keiji had never intended for this to get emotional. Their feelings were a problem for another time, after another conversation - or five - with Koutarou.

Keiji waits until Kuroo’s head has settled back against the pillow before relaxing themself, their eyes closing when Koutarou snuggles against their side, breath warm and body sticky with sweat. Kuroo is further away, but only just, and his fingers are brushing against Keiji’s hip, tentatively maintaining the link between them. They will sleep, and replenish their energy, and then they’ll show Kuroo what it’s like to be taken care of, and to be cherished for the performance he has given. Koutarou will bloom under the attention, and whether or not Kuroo decides to come back to them, Keiji will make sure he leaves with a warm heart and an unforgettable experience.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on [tumblr](http://deciduice.tumblr.com) and [twitter](http://twitter.com/deciduice)


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